


New Year's Eve

by waitshewrites



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube and video blogging rpf
Genre: M/M, Oneshot, Tronnor, tronnor angst, tronnor post breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitshewrites/pseuds/waitshewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-breakup Troye makes a drunken call on New Year's Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Year's Eve

Troye numbly fumbled with the door knob before stumbling into his bedroom. The room was blurry and dark; his head spun. His arms felt so loosely attached that a mere touch could rip them off. Collapsing face-down into the mattress, Troye moaned. 

He knew he shouldn't have accepted the first glass of wine, he knew that today he wouldn't be able to stop if he got the first taste of release. Yet here he was: wasted.

Because today more than ever, Troye craved the sweet detachment that liquor offered. There was simply no other way he'd survive the superficial well-wishers and torturous reminders.

He didn't even regret it now, rather Troye thought he deserved the consistent aching. It almost felt good to feel physical pain while the rest of him fell apart. 

Eventually, Troye peeled himself up from his bed, and painstakingly stripped. When he pulled his pajama bottoms from the closet, Troye accidentally saw the soft denim jacket. Before he thought better of it, Troye had wrapped himself in the garment. It hung awkwardly on his frame: sleeves too long, shoulders too broad. A pang of nostalgia hit Troye when he recognized the scent that lingered as he brought the cuff up to his face.

It so clearly smelled of _him_.

What had once been a familiar comfort now became a malicious taunt. His heart heavy, Troye fought to ignore the memories. 

The way strong arms had held him and overwhelmed him with this exact aroma.

The sound of his laugh when he saw how Troye drowned in this jacket’s size.

The nervous first kiss that had followed, exactly a year ago. 

The now broken promise to always find a way to see each other for the holidays.

Troye heard cheering and the clinks of wine glasses from across the house, indicating that it was finally midnight. Everyone was kissing and laughing and promising themselves this year would be better. But Troye harshly told himself that it had already gotten as good as it could get- there was nothing left to look forward to.

Regardless of the day and its sweet faded memories, Troye had been a ticking time bomb since _he_ had got back on the plane. A slowly deteriorating Troye had watched as _he_ had found someone new, someone not unfamiliar who more than compensated for the wreckage Troye had carelessly caused. Troye wasn’t just replaced, he was erased.

Troye didn't realize he had sunken to the floor until he found himself staining the carpet with tears. 

Curled into himself, Troye tried to pretend that he was only crying for a broken heart, that it wasn't paired with self loathing. As his ears rang, he gave in and admitted to himself what he didn’t want to hear: this was his fault and no one else’s. 

It had been over a month and half, but Troye wasn’t one to mourn and move on. He’d been gradually crumbling. “ _I fucked up._ ” He whispered and he sat up and held his head in his hands.

In Troye’s drunken state, it made perfect sense to call _him_. Maybe Troye forgot the screaming match before things ended and the way the air abruptly chilled as Troye had accepted the validity of the accusations. But suddenly Troye just needed to hear _his_ voice. Even if it was in that final tone.

The other end picked up, but no one spoke. If it was the right person on the other end, _he_ seemed hesitant.

 

"Con?...  Con?"

Troye took one deep breath before letting the words tumble from his mouth. He ignored the way his voice cracked.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why it's taken me this long to realize but I’m so fucking sorry. I didn't fight for you. I wasn't there.  And then I tore you down, I know I did. 

I got hung up on the whole ‘love should be easy thing’ because I didn’t realize I had something worth the extra time. I had you.”

The line remained dead silent.

“I know you're listening. You don't have to answer, because you don't owe me anything.

I'm just trying to come to terms with your absence. I'm constantly wondering if you even think about me anymore. Do you still call me Troye Boy? Do you still draw those little hearts next to my name? I don't think I'm the reason you're up at 3 am anymore. I'm not your last thoughts before you fall asleep or the person you text over late morning coffee.

Meanwhile I'm completely drunk and my brain can't function properly and you're the only reality I recall.

I’m not asking for you to take me back. I wouldn’t take me back. Just know that I’m so sorry I blew it. I lost my other half. Lucky for you, I don’t think I’m your soulmate. You were just mine." Troye exhaled.

"Find someone better than me okay? I hope to fucking god you find someone who will appreciate what he has and supports you. I hope he listens when you reach out. I should have. I’m sorry. H- Happy New Years."

All of a sudden, Troye could hear the shallow breathing of the person on the other end. It seemed that they too had been holding their breath, and were now trying to come up with words to offer.

Troye took his phone away from his ear and stared at the caller id picture. He ended the call.

 

The next morning, Troye woke with a throbbing headache to find he’d been moved to his bed. As he scrolled through instagram, he shivered when a picture of Connor came up.

 _His_ Connor looked so happy, with his arms wrapped around a blond man as the two stood frozen in a kiss. Troye tried not to panic as he noticed the way Connor’s sweater engulfed the slightly shorter man like it had once done to Troye. He hurried to scroll past all the comments, as if the two men in that picture had never meant anything to him.

 _I said to find someone better, he’s just done it faster than I expected._ Troye reminded himself.

He closed the app and began to pile blankets on top of himself. His phone buzzed and he spent all of his remaining energy extracting his hand and reaching for the phone. His mother had texted, announcing waffles were ready for breakfast. Beneath that message was one from 10 hours ago: “Please forgive yourself.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: conconsivan.tumblr.com


End file.
